Reminder
by Yarunika
Summary: (Sequel to Chase) Jeff the Killer has seemingly come back from the dead and is chasing Elin and her boyfriend Louis. But when disaster at the train station strikes and Elin is cornered, she is forced to spend time with her kidnapper. During this, she finds out more about him and his tormenting past. Contains gore and bloody violence.
1. Chapter 1

The station platform was busy as Louis and I sat, wrapped up tight against the bitter cold wind that buffeted the station house, causing the windows to rattle. We'd both dressed up, covered our hair, disguised ourselves. A thick scarf was wrapped round my neck and mouth, as if I was trying to keep my face warm. Really I was hiding the scars Jeff had left behind.

As we sat on the bench, trying to look casual, my mind raced to the days previous. From when Jeff had appeared at the end of the road (surprisingly alive after our last encounter), it had been a tough battle, Louis and I trying to block off the entrances to the house, all the while grabbing stuff, all we could and evading him, taking off in the car. I'd told Louis what'd happened before, and he said it was best to get out of town, out of state if possible. As we raced down the freeway, we called the police and they sent out a car to tail us.

Now we were at the station, waiting for our train that still had twenty minutes to go. It would take us out of state to Louis' holiday home that he occasionally stayed at, hidden deep within the woodland. When he'd showed me a picture on his phone, my heart instantly warmed at the sight of the little tumbledown cottage, covered in ivy and surrounded by natural wildlife. It seemed to radiate safety. I was excited and anxious to get there. Since arriving at the station, there'd been no sign of Jeff at all. And that worried me, big time.

I shivered against the wind.

"You alright?" Louis asked, his hand lightly resting on my knee in a reassuring manner.

"Probably not," I replied gloomily, the image of the cottage beginning to fade, the cold barren views of the station and occasional drifts on snow replacing it. I'd never really been one for cold weather, and it had taken a very sudden turn.

"Train will be here soon," He soothed, "Then we can get away from here. Get somewhere safe," He scooted over, his arm round my tight shoulders. This gesture was so soft and sweet that I couldn't help but lean into him. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to comfort me… I needed his comfort right then.

"I gotta use the bathroom. You stay right here, okay?" he leaned in and whispered, "I'll only be a second. I've got my phone if you need anything. Just act like your some randomer waiting for a train, okay?" I nodded and he squeezed my shoulder, placing a little peck upon the exposed part of my cheek. Then he got up, stretched, and walked back towards the station, going through the door that led into the Men's room. I suddenly felt very alone.

The once-light flurries of snow began to pick up, turning into a swirling mass of fury. I pulled my canvas coat around me tighter, trying my hardest to conserve some of my body heat. To pass the time, I tried catching a few of the snowflakes in my gloveless hands, but that just resulted with my fingers going numb. I sunk them back into my pockets once more and looked around at the other people on the platform. They milled about, some jogging back into the station house and coffee shop for cover, some taking advantage of the situation and picking up handfuls of the snow, scrubbing their friends faces. I scanned the platform for anything suspicious and it came back clear, until my eyes fell on the next bench along, about fifteen feet away. There, a tall man sat, covered up in a long black coat, with a dark wool hat on and a dark scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth, in a fashion similar to my own. In fact, most of his face was covered. I couldn't see his eyes. They were shrouded by a frizzy mass of black hair. To a passer-by, this man would've looked maybe a little strange but not entirely out of the ordinary. But I knew better.

As dread began to pool into my heart, I turned back to the dull white view, keeping an eye on the man out of the corner of my eye. He didn't seem to notice me.

"You okay?" Louis appeared, sitting down next to me again.

"Louis," I hissed, trying to keep my voice level and calm, but low so only he could hear, "You see the guy on the next bench along?"

Louis subtly looked up, spotted the man, then returned his attention to me, "Yeah."

"He gives me the creeps. I just…" I wiped at my face, "I can't help feeling it's him…"

"It's okay, don't worry. We'll just keep our eyes on him. Just try to act casual okay? Maybe he'll go away,"

I nodded and tried to refocus on the wait for the train. It was only a few minutes away…

I turned to look around once more, trying to look casual, maybe a little bored, like an everyday person. My eye caught the man again. Except this time…as my gaze fell onto his half-hidden face, his head turned, his eyes meeting mine…

I could've screamed out loud. The man's eyes were hard and staring, rimmed with black, never blinking. Under his scarf I could see his face contort into a smile.

_Shit._

I turned away quickly, whispering urgently to Louis, "Louis! It's him! He's seen us!"

"Wha-" he turned himself to look at Jeff, who had now stood up, his gaze intently looking in our direction. Louis pulled me to my feet, forcing me behind him.

"Elin, run!"

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Just go for fuck's sake!"

The train was fast approaching, audible as it thundered along the track to meet us. Jeff too was approaching. Passers-by looked at us strangely; others were just focussed on the train. Jeff was almost upon us now.

"Well well well," he hissed, "Looks like hide and seek is over,"

"Get away!" Louis thrashed out at him.

"No, don't!" I tried to grab him but my fingers missed. Jeff got a hold of Louis clenched fist, yanked him forward and threw him off the edge of the platform. He landed with a painful THUNK on the tracks.

"Louis!" I scrabbled, trying to climb down and get him up before the train got there. Jeff grabbed the collar of my coat and tossed me back onto the platform with ease. The cops that'd been tailing us rushed out form their hiding places around the side of the station house, pistols levelled at Jeff, who just turned to smirk, raising his hands in surrender. Both cops stepped forward to arrest him, when he ripped his knife from his pocket as quick as a flash and sunk it into the first cop's chest, then slashed across the second cop's throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, and people ran screaming.

I crawled to the edge of the platform, to see Louis trying to get up. He was hurt bad and too slow. The train flew into the station. I only just managed to scrabble away from the edge of the platform ad get up onto my knees, "LOUIS!"

He turned fearfully to the oncoming train, but before he could react, there was a sickening wet slap as the train hit him full force. I screamed, as Jeff's hand gripped my throat, yanking me to my feet, as he laughed maniacally.

"YOU SICK TWISTED FUCK," I yelled, spinning round in my anger and sorrow, catching him in the face with my fist. He yelped and let go, allowing me to scramble away. More police were flooding the station now, dozens of units. I sprinted through the station house out onto the parking lot to find several cars waiting there. A relatively tubby copper called me over. I ran to him. He sheltered me and helped me into the front passenger seat of the cruiser.

"Hey, hey," he tried to calm me. I found I was crying and shaking uncontrollably, "Listen. I'm gonna get you out of here. I'm gonna drive you out of state and get you away from here."

"Why?!"

"I can't take you home in case he has any allies that may be waiting for you. We can't afford to take that chance," he helped me to put on the seatbelt.

"Don't worry Miss Waters, you're safe now," he reassured.

"But Louis…" I wept.

He looked sad, "I know. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but I need you to stay strong for me, okay?"

I nodded.

He shut the door, said something to some of the other cops and dashed quickly round to the driver's side. Starting the car, he turned out of the lot and onto the main road, away from the mess at the station.


	2. Chapter 2

"You probably don't remember me," the cop said, breaking the quiet atmosphere inside the car. The sky was becoming dark overhead as we flew past endless trees.

"I'm sorry, I don't," I sniffed and replied truthfully.

"You remember back when you were in hospital? After what happened last time?" he said tentatively, "I'm sorry if I'm bringing it all back."

"No it's fine. And yes, I do remember hospital," I gave a sad smile.

"I was one of the cops that interviewed you. You asked if we'd found Jeff,"

"Oh yes! I do remember now. I don't think I caught your name though,"

"The name's Johnny," he smiled.

"Hi, Johnny." I folded my hands in my lap.

"How you feeling?" he asked.

"Well… not so good."

"I understand. I lost my brother to a train accident," he sighed, "I know how you feel,"

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. Quiet enveloped the car once more.

"Johnny, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure,"

"Is this car being tracked by the police?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Does that mean we'll get updates on what's happened at the station over the radio or something?"

"Yep. Hopefully we'll get an update soon-"

As he was saying this, the radio crackled into life. Half of what was said I didn't catch, but I did hear something along the lines of _"Suspect has escaped and is mobile…"_ lots of crackling _"What is your position…?"_

Johnny picked up the receiver and began conversing with the other end. But I didn't hear a word of what he said. My head was pounding, the blood rushing in my ears.

_Suspect has escaped and is mobile…_

I wanted to throw up. He was still alive?! After being ambushed by cops and probably _shot_?! I put my hand to my mouth, trying to stifle my crying. It came out as a horrified sob. Johnny turned to me and replaced the receiver.

"Don't worry, there's no way Jeff would know which way we were headed. He's apparently gone in the opposite direction."

"He's still alive?!" I cried hysterically.

"Miss Waters, please, try to calm down-"

I pulled my knees up to my chest. The seatbelt stuck uncomfortably into my ribs, but I didn't care. My brain raced, the rabble consisting mainly of cursing and swearing, as well as a massive cloud of confusion and unintelligible feelings. I could feel a tense knot in my stomach.

"Miss Waters?" Johnny asked from somewhere in the distance.

"Yes?" I mumbled, my voice cracked and hoarse.

"I promise, I won't let him find you," his hand on my shoulder. This mildly comforted me. I uncurled and tried to make order of the chaos in my head. I was with a cop, we were headed out of town, and the psychopath had gone in entirely the wrong direction. It wasn't all that bad. We weren't in a desperate road race. He wasn't right behind us. I turned to look out the rear window, my gaze met with a dark grey strip of tarmac and bursts of snow flying by. No one was there.

I sat back and tried to breathe deep. That usually helped. I relaxed a little more and nodded to Johnny who was looking at me with a worried expression.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to convince not just him but myself too.

But that knot in my stomach got increasingly tighter.


	3. Chapter 3

We stopped an hour or so later at the gas station to refuel. I sat in the passenger seat while Johnny filled the car.

"I'll be a second, just gotta use the men's," he said. I nodded as he closed the door and walked round the back of the gas station. Inside, I was screaming. I did not want to be left alone again.

To pass the time I played about with my phone. But then the battery died and I was left sat in the dark of the car, looking out the windscreen at the starry sky. After about ten minutes, I got worried. Then I saw Johnny walking back to the car and I felt better. Except…

It didn't look like Johnny. The figure was too tall, too thin. As he came into the light of the gas station, I saw he was wearing a white hoodie covered in blood. He was also clutching the keys to the car. As I scrambled to open the door, he locked the car, trapping me.

When he reached the car, he stared at me through the window for a second, that insane smile on his face. Then he crouched down and slid under the car. This was followed by several thumps and bangs, like he was kicking something underneath the car. A black box came free and skittered across the ground. _The tracker box._

He clambered out, picked up the box, then unlocked the car. Opening the door, he seized me as I made a futile attempt to escape.

"Bitch…" he dragged me towards the station, around the back, and kicked back the men's room door.

He tossed me inside, and my eyes were met with the most gruesome sight I had ever seen. Johnny was lying against the sink, his chest cavity ripped open. Entrails everywhere. His expression was one of complete horror, frozen onto his face forever. The blood splattered up the walls, into the sink, the toilet, everywhere. The mirror was cracked, half on the floor in shards. There had to have been a fight.

Jeff stepped past me and rammed the tracker box into Johnny's open chest.

"What do you think?" Jeff growled at me, "Artistic, isn't it?"

I just whimpered and tried to crawl away. He laughed and grabbed me, forcing me to my feet.

"P-please!" I tried to struggle away, "Please just get it over with!" I sobbed.

He looked at me with those hard eyes, "Get it over with?!" he chuckled, "Oh no, I haven't finished with you yet. You're too much fun," his hand was unforgiving as it tightened around my throat.

"B-but, how did you find us?!"

"I managed to steal an undercover cruiser after losing the cops. Used their own tracking device against them. Let's just say they shouldn't be too much of a problem for a while," he tossed Johnny's keys at his lifeless body. "It would be unwise to use his car. I have the other one ready. They'll be here soon, no doubt. Their system should lead them right here," he gazed own at Johnny, as if admiring his handiwork. Then he sneered, raised a foot and swung it at Johnny's face. His jaw audibly cracked under the force.

"Stop it!" I yelled.

"Why should I?! He's dead now anyway!" Jeff roared back, his face twisting up into a smile, "He was quite the squealer too,"

I thrashed against him but there was no hope of escape. His grip was like a vice. My attempts just made him laugh.

"C'mon. I'd much rather not be around when your police pals show up," he pulled me out the door, across the lot to another car, an unmarked police car judging from the equipment on the dashboard. It would blend in perfectly, looking no different than an ordinary silver Volvo on the outside. He shoved me into the passenger side, then got in himself.

"Why won't you just kill me?!"

"Like I said, you're fun. And I want to make you pay for sending me on that rat race."

"Don't you think you've tortured me enough?!"

"No. Not nearly enough," he chuckled, "You're boyfriend was annoying. As was your cop friend. They got what was coming to them,"

"You bastard!" I threw myself at him, struggling with him. I managed to grab his knife and tried to stab him but he twisted out of the way and threw me back hard against the door. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head down onto the dashboard.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. His voice seemed to grow dim as I sat slumped against the dash, his hand untangling itself from my hair.

Then the car started and he turned back onto the freeway.


	4. Chapter 4

We must've been driving for hours. The air outside had warmed and the snow became rain, heavy and unforgiving, thundering down and pelting the windscreen. Jeff stayed focussed on the road as I held my cold hand to my throbbing forehead. A painful lump had formed. My vision and hearing had cleared since he'd whacked my head of the dash. Now I was left with intense pain, not just in my head but in my neck and shoulders too.

I tried several times to fall asleep, to escape this torture and hopefully never wake up, but there was no comfortable way to sit in the car. Jeff was getting agitated too, his eyes looking irritated and sore. It didn't help that he couldn't blink. Staring at the road for such a long period of time was doing his nut in. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He definitely came across as the restless type.

I tried to ignore him, looking out the window, imagining I was somewhere else, maybe in the car with Louis on our way to the cottage… tears slid down my face at the thought of Louis and the cottage. If only Jeff hadn't found us, maybe we would be at the cottage now, enjoying each others company, cooking dinner together.

"What's wrong with you?" Jeff's voice was sudden and harsh.

"What isn't wrong," I grumbled under my breath. His presence was scaring me less; now he just angered me. I expected him to make a grab for me, or say something cruel, but he stayed oddly silent. I looked up at him, finding that he was staring at me. His gaze was pressuring. I looked back down at my knees, hands folded in my lap. He huffed and his gaze returned to the road.

I glanced out the window. Off on the left, through the forest, there were lights, several all in a row. A housing estate maybe.

"You're a right pain, you know that?" Jeff growled.

"At least I'm not some psychopath that murdered my family," I retaliated. He slammed on the brakes. We skidded to a stop.

_Well done, Elin,_ I thought, _Now you've really cocked up._

He twisted to look at me, the car engine rumbling.

"Say that again," he dared, a mean look in his eye.

I opened my mouth, but decided against it. Instead, I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped out of the car. He was quick too though, and caught my leg with his knife that he'd managed to keep in hand as he drove. I gasped as the pain seared my leg, but tried to ignore it as I got up and half-ran half-stumbled towards the forest.

I could hear him crashing through the leaves behind me, which urged me on. The ground took a steep downhill route, which I tripped and rolled down. He almost got me, had I not scrabbled to my feet again. The forest grew thin, until it reached a main road. I followed the tarmac down what looked like a high street, past old shops that had been closed up for the night. And at the end of the street…

A police station!

I kept running, knowing that I would be safe as soon as I was inside. Little did I know that Jeff had taken an alley route, and I didn't see him coming at me from one of the alleyways that led onto the main road. He jumped at me and brought me down hard onto the cold pavement. I tried to get up again, but he dragged me into the alley, knife raised. Pinning me against the wall, he put the blade to my throat.

"Please Jeff!" I screamed. He hesitated for a second, looking at me with those dark, evil eyes.

"Please what?" he was out of breath, his voice heavy and ragged.

"Please, just kill me! I don't want to be your toy anymore!" I yelled in his face, before biting my lip, trying to get my tears under control. _Did I really want to die?_

The pressure on my neck loosened a small amount, "Heh," he snorted, "It's not often my victims plead for death. I said I would make you suffer. Not give you the pleasure of a quick and painless end."

My mind raced for a something, anything, to sidetrack him.

"Why did you kill your family, Jeff?!"

"I told you before, they lied to me!"

"Did they deserve to die? What about your brother?" I tried to calm my breathing, "What about… oh, what was his name…"

"Liu!" he yelled, "Liu…" he repeated, the anger sort of draining from him. The blade came down a fraction.

"Liu didn't lie to you, did he?"

Jeff said nothing.

"You regret killing him, don't you?" I carefully, slowly, removed the knife from my neck. His hand was limp as he stood expressionless.

"He was my brother…My best friend…" his hands shook and the knife fell to the floor, "And I…" he covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head, "No, no NO! GO AWAY!" he screamed, his shaking becoming violent, "Leave me alone!"

I, unsure of what to do in this situation, stood silent. I could've run. Could've gotten away from him, escaped. But I just stood there, intent on…what did I intend to do? Comfort him?

"Who is it? Who do you want to go away?" I asked.

"The voices, they won't leave me alone!" He babbled, shaking me by the shoulders and sinking to his knees. He looked up and his wide, scared eyes found mine. Suddenly I was looking at a young boy, scared and confused. His gaze retreated, and he leant forward so his forehead rested on the ground, babbling and muttering.

"Mi vida es un tormento…mi vida es un tormento…mi vida es un tormento…" he said, voice on a loop. I recognised it as Spanish, but I had no idea what he was saying.

After a minute of this, his voice quietened and he sat up, in a bit of a daze. He picked up his knife and stood, grabbed my wrist and silently pulled me back down the main road, up through the forest, and to the car, still with its engine running.

I didn't protest during this. Didn't dare.


	5. Chapter 5

We continued on for a few miles before turning off and rolling into the parking lot of some old run-down motel. It was two storey, with a set of metal steps leading onto a concrete balcony that allowed access to the rooms on the second floor.

"Here," Jeff tossed a bundle of cash at me, a thick pack of twenties. He didn't meet my eye as I looked at him questioningly, wondering where the money had come from.

"What? Go get a room. And whiskey. Do not even _think_ about running. You know I'll just catch you," he chuckled under his breath but his hands gripped the steering so hard, his knuckles looked like they might burst out of his skin, "Oh, and use a fake name if they ask for one."

For a second, he confused me. Then I just shrugged it off and tidied myself up in the mirror, zipping my jacket up to cover the rip in my trouser leg and fluffing my now lank fringe over my forehead to cover the bruise that sat there, shining. Then I wiped my face with my coat sleeve, and got out the car.

The rain had eased a fair bit, now just some pathetic mizzle. It still soaked me through and by the time I'd reached the check-in office, my fringe was running into my eyes. The whole way, I felt Jeff's pressuring gaze on my back.

Inside it was a little warmer. A spotty teenage kid stood behind the old rickety counter, giving me a strange look as I walked in.

"Evening, miss," he drawled, looking both bored and tired.

"A room please," I said, not meeting his eye.

"How many occupants?"

"Two,"

He typed something into the old computer that sat on the desk. It clicked and whirred noisily.

"Name?"

I hesitated. If the cops came this way and asked this kid about Elin Waters while we were still here, then it was surely a ticket to freedom from the maniac I was seemingly going to spend the night with. But Jeff had said to use a fake name… and if he found out I hadn't…

My mind raced for a name, any name. But all the names in existence had scarpered from my brain.

"Louise…Anderson," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The kid didn't question. He typed it in, handed me a key, and asked if there was anything else.

"Do you sell…whiskey?" I asked.

He blinked, "Yeah," he turned and opened a cooler behind him, pulled out a bottle and placed it on the counter.

"How much?"

"Eleven," he drawled sleepily. I thanked my lucky stars he hadn't asked for ID, paid, and hurried out. Jeff by this time had parked and was waiting outside, his hood pulled up against the drizzle. He was rubbing his eyes. They must have been irritating him.

"Here," I gave him the key and booze. He nodded and stomped up the metal staircase. I followed.

We walked along the balcony in silence, to the door at the very end, room 11. He unlocked the door and held it open for me. Taken aback by this seemingly nice gesture, I headed inside. It was a plain room, small kitchenette, bathroom, double bed, desk in one corner. Not bad. Still a little rough with the walls visibly damp and the laminate kitchen worktops chipped and faded from years of abuse.

I sat on the bed, unsure what to do.

"Gimme your clothes," he grunted.

I stared at him incredulously. It was so sudden and sounded so ridiculous I almost burst out laughing.

"Why?"

"You want to go around covered in blood?" he raised a misshapen eyebrow at me, frowning.

I got his point. If we went out in public covered in blood then people would start to freak out. Not that I cared. People would probably call the cops, which would end up with me being rescued hopefully. He however didn't want that to happen. He was taking precautions. Being careful.

I went to the bathroom and took off my clothes, then zipped my jacket back up to cover me like some weird canvas dress. I then gave him my messy attire. He wrapped them up in a bundle, went outside and shut the door on me. Then he locked it.

I suddenly felt very alone.

There was no window in the apartment at all, so no chance of escape there. And the door was thickly built, and after a few minutes of trying with a hairpin found on the bathroom floor, I couldn't figure out how to pick the lock. So I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how long he'd be, where he'd actually gone and whether he planned on killing me any time soon.

I thought back to earlier to pass the time. His mental breakdown…I had brought that on. Guilt flooded my stomach. But I knew now that he did have a weak spot. And as horrible as it sounded and as guilty as it made me feel, I could use that to my advantage.

I was curious about his past. Always had been since I'd met him. He hadn't revealed much to me, except that he had killed his family (which I had already known from actually seeing the crime scene when I was eight) and that he regretted killing his brother, Liu. But often my curiosity got me into trouble, as I'd found out after our first meet.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

That saying kept swimming around in my brain. I thought about maybe asking him about his past. But something told me that wasn't a good idea.

After about half and hour of silence, alone and doing nothing, I got up and searched the kitchenette, locating some value-for-money tea bags at the back of the greasy cupboard. I topped up the kettle with water, and put it on to boil. Then I found two cups and gave them a quick wash before putting the tea bags in. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I tapped a rhythm out on the worktop: it was just a random ditty, nothing I recognised. Then I poured the water into each cup and strained the bags with a spoon. In the fridge there was a half-bottle of milk, thankfully in date. I poured some in and took one of the cups to the bed, reclined and tried to relax my tense shoulders. If I was going to die, then I wanted to at least have one of my favourite drinks before I went out.

He must've been an hour and a half in total. When he came back, his hoodie was clean, as were my clothes, which he tossed in my general direction.

"This place has a laundry?" I asked, a little dumbfounded.

He grunted. I took this for a yes.

He stood, hands buried in his pockets with a thunderous look on his face. His sore eyes scanned the room, before resting on the mug of tea I'd left for him on the worktop, which had gone cold.

"You…made me…tea?" his face showed some disbelief.

"Yeah. I didn't know how long you'd be. Sorry it's gone cold," I replied, trying to keep it light hearted. I wanted to keep him in a good mood.

"It's okay…" he seemed a little lost. Must've surprised him.

He drifted around after that. First he sat on the floor, back against the wall, then he went to the bathroom, then he sat on the end of the bed, and finally he came to rest at the desk, which he stabbed his knife into several times. I kept a close watch. The overall atmosphere was very awkward. Like when you were left alone with someone you'd just met.

His restlessness grew and grew, until he kicked back the chair and launched his knife into the wall. It pierced the damp wallpaper and plaster easily, shredding it. He retracted the knife and sat down again, rubbing his eyes.

Part of me wanted to get up and comfort him. I was a little shocked by this feeling. This guy was a cold-hearted killer, someone who'd literally made my life a living hell. And yet seeing him pained like this saddened me. I wondered about what he'd said before, the Spanish phrase he kept repeating…

_Mi vida es un tormento…_

Tormento? Sounded like 'torment'. Torment…

"Jeff?" I asked cautiously.

"What?" he grumbled, not looking at me.

"You said something earlier…something in Spanish I think," I replied quietly, "And it's been bugging me. What… what does it mean?"

He looked up, "What did I say?"

"Er, something like 'Mi vida es un tormento',"

He tensed and looked down again.

"Jeff?"

He didn't reply.

"Please tell me,"

He paused, then sighed.

"'My life is torment'. That's what it means,"

I blinked.

"Your life is…" I tried to work it out. The regret, the mental breakdown… He took pleasure in his work. Yet something inside him was still… broken.

He grunted and got up, scratching his head. He made his way into the bathroom and shut the door.

The apartment fell silent. I grabbed my clothes at took advantage of the alone time, getting dressed quickly. After hanging my coat on the back of the chair, I studied the dents he'd left in the table and in the wall. Fairly deep, they'd been executed with some force. He'd left his knife too. I picked it up and studied it. Simple stainless steel blade, black handle. It looked well cared-for, and must've been recently cleaned.

A small cough from behind me made me turn sharply. Jeff's hand was outstretched. I handed him the knife. He took it and put it in his pocket. The he turned and went back into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door.

"Go to sleep," he called. I obeyed and got into bed, fully dressed. I was beginning to feel like his minion. Just doing as I was told would surely keep me out of trouble.

I managed to drift off to sleep, dreaming of Louis and the train. It always hit him, my fingers never being able to grab him in time. I woke several times shaking and crying, missing Louis's touch. Every time, I noticed the bathroom light was still on, the door still open. And every time after, I fell back into the unconscious world of restless sleep.

This repeated several times, until I dreamt not of Louis, but of Jeff. He was sat on the floor, bleeding profusely from his eyes and from his carved lips, rocking back and forth, screaming for the things to 'Leave him alone'. I woke suddenly, except this time I wasn't shaking and crying. I just felt numb. The bathroom light was still on, and I could see Jeff stood over the sink, hands gripping the porcelain tight. I slid out of bed.

"Jeff?"

He turned to face me, his face wet and covered in blood. He'd taken off his hoodie to reveal a simple black T-shirt underneath, which was stained and sopping. His knife was on the floor, also covered in blood. He'd sliced into the scars on his cheeks, scratching them open. He hadn't gone all the way through the skin of his cheeks, but even so it was still enough to fountain blood onto the floor, onto him, into the sink.

"I'm beautiful…aren't I?" he asked hoarsely, a slightly manic giggle passing his sore lips.

I nodded, unsure of how to reply.

"You're lying…" he pointed his finger at me accusingly, "You lied!"

"No, no I mean it!" I stepped back, my hands coming up, as if I could protect myself.

He stooped and picked up his knife.

"Liar!" he advanced, but the life sort of drained out of him. He sank to his knees, then flopped over onto his side, curled up in the fetal position. He mumbled to himself about the 'things'.

I looked back into the apartment. Should I run now? I cursed myself for thinking this. Killer or not, he needed help. So I stayed, knelt down beside him. He stared off into the distance.

"Jeff?"

He didn't respond.

I got up and searched the airing cupboard for a towel. I found a flannel and wet it, carefully wiping his face, then tightly pressed each wound with the towel. He didn't stir during this. I left him momentarily to search the under-sink cupboard and kitchen cupboards for a first aid kit. I found one in the drawer of the desk.

After stopping as much of the blood flow as possible, I stuck two big sterile strips onto each side of his mouth. They looked awkward and I had to wrap them around into his mouth uncomfortably, but it would have to do.

As I did this, his gaze shifted to me.

"Mi vida es un tormento," he mumbled.

"I know," I said, "I know."


	6. Chapter 6

He sat up in a daze a few minutes later. Looked at the blood on the floor, in the sink, on him. He put a hand up to the steri-strips on his face.

"What did I… You did this?" he scratched the plasters with his rough nails.

I nodded.

"You… you actually care?!" his voice came out hysterical.

"You need help Jeff," I replied bluntly.

He stared at me.

"You remind me of Liu."

"Really? How?"

"Liu was always there for me. Always comforted me. He took the blame for something I did." His voice because bitter, "And what did I do? I fucking killed him!" he stood up quickly, steadying himself on the edge of the sink. Catching a glimpse of himself in the bloodied mirror, he snarled at his reflection and smashed it with his fist. He began to laugh. It became hysterical and high-pitched, insane. Then his voice cracked and it turned into a sob. He scratched at his bleeding hand.

"GO AWAY!" he screamed at it.

I got up, and slowly approached.

"Here," I offered my hand, "Let me look,"

He stared at me, chest heaving with sobs, and once more I found myself looking at a scared child. He trembled as he gave me his hand. I studied his knuckles, then carefully let go and picked the first aid kit up from the floor. Finding the flannel again, I rinsed it out in the sink and wet it, carefully wiping the cuts. Then I covered it in thick wadding and wrapped it up with some bandage material. He watched me carefully.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because I want to," I replied, securing the bandage.

"But…but why?!"

"I want to help you Jeff!"

He stood quiet for a moment.

"But I don't need help," he pulled his hand sharply away from me. I looked up. He studied the bandages, then turned to the mess on the floor and in the sink.

"Go back to bed," There was a commanding tone in his voice. I opened my mouth to argue, but he had already turned away and had begun to swill out the sink. I sighed inwardly and left, sat on the bed and watched him for a bit.

Despite the messy nature of which he worked (from what I'd seen in the gas station men's room) he seemed very thorough with his cleaning. He kept his head bowed as he scrubbed with the towel. Half-way through cleaning the floor, he looked up and saw I wasn't in bed.

"Go to sleep!" he commanded. I climbed back into bed and closed my eyes.

A few minutes later, I heard him dump the messy towels in the bath. Peeking out from under the duvet, I saw him pull his ruined shirt over his head and dump it in there too, before washing down his chest. I noticed he was covered in scars, some fairly new and still red raw, others pale and silvery. They slashed across his back, on his shoulders and sides, like he'd been scratching his skin with his nails. Again my heart thudded, that feeling of sadness pooling my stomach. He pulled his hoodie on minus the black T-shirt, and turned off the light.

A moment later, the bed shifted as he sat on it. He stayed there for a few minutes, before reclining, not bothering with the duvet. He covered his eyes with one of the pillows and relaxed. I didn't dare move. I was too scared to. Eventually, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up a few hours later. The alarm clock on the table beside the bed told me it was five in the morning. Jeff was snoring softly, the pillow still over his face. I shifted slightly, rolling a little onto my back, and felt a weight on my arm through the duvet. Jeff had turned onto his side slightly, curled up and facing towards me, one hand outstretched and gripping my arm.


	7. Chapter 7

I must've fallen asleep again because when I woke up the clock told me it was eight-thirty. Jeff had already got up and was in the bathroom, collecting the filthy towels. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

I expected to feel scared, shocked, confused…I was still aching over Louis death, but my whole body was cold, and the heartache was muted, like a dull throb. My body felt numb. Yesterday seemed like a dream. In fact, the past few months as a whole felt like a dream. A dream I couldn't seem to pull myself out of. More like a collection of horrifying nightmares.

Jeff crossed the room and stepped outside, taking the towels with him. He turned and locked to door on me again. He must've been on his way to dispose of them. Wouldn't be a good idea just leaving them lying around. I noticed he still had the steri-strips on when I glimpsed his face as he left. Part of me hoped the damage he'd done had healed a little overnight.

After getting up proper and deciding to dismiss breakfast, I checked over my clothes. I still had my canvas coat (which required some rubbing down with a sponge to removed the few spots of blood and dirt) and my scarf, plus the black jeans and black thermal long-sleeve I was already wearing. Taking a look through the peephole in the door I saw that the rain had become snow again and had settled in a thin wispy layer on the ground. I was glad I still had something to wrap up in; I wasn't a big fan of cold weather. That little part of me rose again, hoping that Jeff had something to wrap up in himself, knowing that all he was wearing presently was a hoodie and some black skinny jeans and sneakers. Not the ideal thing to wear in this weather.

As I was thinking this, sat on the edge of the bed doing up the laces of my walking boots, he returned. Under his arm he carried a long black coat and scarf, the same ones he'd been wearing at the train station, along with an old faded back-pack. He dumped them on the bed, grabbed the whiskey and bundle of cash he'd left on the worktop and shoved them into the back-pack. Then he put on the coat and wrapped the scarf around his face in the same manner he had yesterday.

"Where'd you find the bag?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He didn't bother to reply. I guess I kind of already knew. Probably stolen them from somewhere. Or someone. His white hoodie was still pristine though, so he can't have killed anyone. _Or could he?_

"Out," he ordered. I obeyed. He picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder, locked up the room, and gave me the key, I went back to the office and handed it back. The kid, who looked considerably more awake, smiled and wished us a safe journey. I thanked him and headed over to the car, where Jeff was sat, waiting, the engine revving loudly. I climbed in the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere," he said bluntly. He turned out of the parking lot back onto the road.

For a while we sat in silence. The snow got heavier the further away from the motel we got, and soon it was coming down thickly and clogging up the windscreen wipers. We had to stop several times to clear them. I also slipped over several times on my way round the car, much to Jeff's amusement.

"You might want to see a doctor about that," he commented on my clumsiness. I sneered and stormed back to the passenger side of the car. But in my haste, I slipped again. Jeff couldn't seem to help himself now. For the next ten minutes as we continued down the road, he laughed hysterically.

I was glad he was in a better mood. I wasn't so glad when we hit a road block a few miles on though. Several workmen wearing high-visibility jackets stood, slowing the few cars that were on the road. Jeff's mood deteriorated. He pulled his scarf around his face and his hat right down and got out the car, leaving the car door open. I stayed put.

"What's going on?" I heard him say to one of the workers.

"Road's blocked," the man replied, "We're waiting for the plows to get up here."

"How long will that be?"

"Could be a while yet, mate."

"Shit," he audibly cursed, "You expect us to just sit here?"

"It's all we can do, mate. Unless you wanna turn around and go back the way you came,"

Jeff paused, "Fine."

"Can you follow the officials into that side road up there?" the worker pointed to a side road running parallel to the main road, "We need to keep as many of the cars out of the way as possible for when the plows get here. Thank goodness not many people have come up this way already. People must've noticed the weather and not bothered to travel. It's far too dangerous to go up there without the road being cleared."

Jeff nodded and headed back. A minute or so later, another worker directed us in the direction of the side road, which must've been commonly used by trucks and vans. We sat in a line of other cars in silence, watching the people in front get out and stretch their legs. There were a few kids too, having a snowball fight.

Jeff had become very tense, and for good reason too. He was in a dangerous position here. Someone might recognize him or me, and then he wouldn't be able to make a hasty escape in the car. He turned to engine off and fiddled with the car keys.

"Elin?"

"Hm?"

"Are you afraid of me?"

I hesitated.

"Not as much as I was,"

"Hm." He nodded. There was a moment of stony silence.

"Do you really think I need help?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.

"Yes," I said honestly.

He nodded again.

Another silence. This one stretched on for an hour or so. During that time the snow got even heavier and soon it was impossible to see out any of the windows. Neither of us bothered to clear it. It was just a white wall between us and the rest of the world.

I thought about his questions and his behavior. It brought up questions of my own.

_Why hadn't he killed me yet?_

_Why had he asked if I was afraid of him?_

_And why was he more sociable?_

I thought for some time, and managed scrape up some meager answers:

He probably hadn't killed me yet because he was enjoying torturing me. He'd said before that I was 'fun'. In other words, he was probably just keeping me as a play thing to toy around with until he got bored, when he would get rid of me.

As for asking if I was afraid, maybe he'd noticed the fact I didn't respond much to his threatening-ness anymore. Nor did I back down in an argument or hesitate to speak my mind (for example, in the car the night before). Then there was also the fact I hadn't run off during either of his breakdowns. He'd see that I wasn't scared of him: I wanted to help him.

And his sociability… well, he was certainly a whole lot more talkative. Not entirely friendly but the whole slipping-over-and-making-myself-look-like-a-right- doof thing earlier… he'd actually laughed at that. It had been a lighthearted laugh. Sure, he was laughing _at_ me, not _with_ me, but it still had an air that had lifted my spirits just a bit. I wondered if he was growing accustomed to me. Every now again, I noticed he gave me a glance and then looked quickly away. His expression was a little tricky to read, but he didn't look angry of threatening… just, kinda curious. Like me.

After a while of boringness, he sighed heavily and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, muttering and cursing under his breath about "Goddamn weather" and "Goddamn people being too lazy to get off their asses and get a move on".

"This is boring," I muttered.

"No shit." He grunted in reply.

Then we heard cars approaching.

"Let's pray it's the plows," he mumbled, going to open his door. A torrent of snow fell off and landed in a heap on the floor. He peeked out. Then his eyes went wide.

"Shit." He undid his seatbelt and instructed me to do the same. I complied, too confused to do anything else.

"Open your door. Slowly and quietly," he pointed his knife at me. I did as I was told, very carefully opening the door. I managed to open it without all the snow crashing down off of it. The movement remained quiet.

"Good. Now get out and stay hidden behind the car,"

I got out and crouched down by the car. I peeked around and saw a cop car further down the road. An officer was talking to the worker Jeff had spoken with. Jeff clambered out the passenger side after me, also keeping hidden. He kept his knife flat against my back, forcefully grabbed my arm and led me over to the forest at the side of the road, both of us still in a crouch.

As soon as we were in the cover of the trees, he urged me on faster until we were moving in a moderate jog. His blade stayed firm across my lower back, forcing me on. I simply went with it. As we ran I thought. _Why hadn't I just jumped out from behind the car and yelled for help? The cop would've seen me. Jeff probably would've gotten away, but I would have been rescued…_Then I thought harder. If that had happened and Jeff had got away, he would probably just track me down and torture me to death as payback. Slowly and painfully.

_How had the cops found us in the first place?_ Well, they would've found Johnny eventually, by the tracker box Jeff had kicked out from under the car. It would've taken a whole lot of force to get that thing off; they were usually secured well, which proved that he had a good kick on him. A very strong kick. Not a kick to get in the way of. I made a note of that.

By now we'd found ourselves in the middle of a big snowy field. Everything was white. Nearby a stream could be heard, trickling by. I was surprised it hadn't frozen. It was bitterly cold. I shivered as we slowed to a walk. Jeff was looking back the way we'd come

"Let's hope they don't follow the footprints, eh?" he said, voice as cold as the air, yet a smile played on his carved face. The steri-strips were beginning to peel off.

Ten more minutes of cold walking and we came to a gate. He forced me over it, then climbed over himself. On the other side, there was a thin country lane. Nothing to see in either direction for what could've been miles.

"Now what?" I asked.

He growled, and set off down the lane, his hand like a vice around my wrist.

We must've walked for hours. By the time a car came, it was getting dark. Jeff signaled to it. The car, which I recognized as an old and battered Chevy, trundled to a stop. The window rolled down. A lone man sat inside, a farmer type. He had a red cap and a bristly white mustache.

"What can I do for you?" he said cheerily.

Jeff half-turned to me, "Turn around and cover your ears,"

I stood confused for a second, then did as I was told. While facing the other way, I heard the man yell, the door open, a thud like something hitting the ground and lots of dragging, then several short screams. There was a sound of ripping flesh and blood sloshing, before the man fell silent. I stood completely frozen in fear, hearing all of it even though my hands were clamped tight over my ears.

"Get in the truck," Jeff ordered when I turned to him, hearing his approach. His coat was dripping with blood, his face and hands covered in it too. He tore off the coat, wiped his hands and face on it, then tossed it at the body of the man, whom he'd dragged further up the road, covering most of him before I could crane round to see.

He grabbed my arm and forced me into the truck that had managed to stay blood-free. I sat down, keeping quiet. He got in the other side, and got the truck in motion. As it rumbled down the lane and away from the mutilated body, I realized there were tears on my cheeks. Jeff put his hand towards me. I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me, but he shocked me by rubbing away the tears on the cheek nearest to him with his thumb.

"I'm sorry you had to endure that," he apologized quietly taking his hand back, "I hope you didn't see any of it,"

"I didn't,"

"Good. I figured you'd probably had enough blood to last a very long time," a smile came onto his red streaked face. It was different from his usual evil grin, more… sincere, in a way.

"Did you hear any of it?"

I hesitated, then spoke honestly, "Yes,"

His face fell, "I'm sorry," he apologized again, then went silent, urging the truck on faster across the road that was becoming icy.

I sat in shock. _He was apologizing? This wasn't like him… _


	8. Chapter 8

His attack on the man had scared me.

_Yet the memory had flown from my conscience quickly._

Seeing Johnny covered in blood had made me feel sick.

_Yet seeing blood again, I realized it didn't bother me anymore._

Louis had been the love of my life.

_Yet I was forgetting him already._

_Louis was killed two days ago. _I could feel grief inside of me, but it refused to come out. Maybe I was scared to let it out, in case Jeff saw._ But then why would that scare me? He didn't care…_

These thoughts churned over and over in my mind as I lay on the uncomfortable bed. Another motel. I'd paid for the room again. This one was a good eighty miles away from where Jeff had stolen the truck. As far as we knew, the police hadn't made it this far up yet. There was a TV in this room, but I didn't want to turn it on in case there was a news bulletin. The quiet suited me fine. The only sound came from Jeff, who was sat at the scratched round table, knocking back occasional shots of whiskey from a small tumbler he'd found in the cupboard. He'd offered me some, but I refused, saying I wasn't really much of a drinker. He'd chuckled at that and sat, lonely and thoughtful at the table, lost to his own thoughts.

I wondered what he was thinking about. He was interesting to watch. At times he sat as still as stone, not doing anything except staring off into space. Sometimes his left eye and hand twitched. Other times, his entire right arm would spasm, like a shiver. That was his dominant hand. Maybe he was thinking about using his knife. He had an odd attraction to it, making a note of cleaning it thoroughly as soon as we'd settled into the room.

I watched him for a little while longer, wondering what he was thinking, before getting bored. I sat up and swung my legs off the bed, stretched, and went for a shower. It released the knots in my shoulders and back, and eased the throb in my head behind the killer bruise on my forehead.

_Ha,_ I thought, **_Killer _**_bruise. Morbid humor._

After I toweled myself dry, I checked my face in the mirror. The bruise and swelling had reduced slightly, which was good. My face looked tired and pained. I tried to relax my jaw. That helped a bit. I got dressed and left, raking my fingers through my hair like a brush. Jeff hadn't moved since I'd left him. Just sat there and twitched. His eyes moved to follow me as I passed him though, grabbing a tumbler from the cupboard. I swallowed some water and tried again to relax.

"Here," he offered me the whiskey again, "It'll help with the tension, believe me," his voice was a little slurred but his eyes stayed intently focused on me. I gave in. Poured a little of the honey liquid into the glass and leant against the worktop. Knocking it back, I felt the stinging burn down the back of my throat. For some reason, whiskey had always reminded me of bleach, searing and itchy, like when you got the cleaning fluid on your hand. The warmth spread through me, and I began to feel a little drowsy, floppy even.

"You're the only woman I know who can drink the stuff neat without shuddering," Jeff mumbled, eyes still on me, one elbow on the table, his hand curled under his jaw in a fist.

"I'm tougher than I look," I said, eyes on the floor, thinking about how short and scrawny I was. Having dark hair and very pale skin didn't help. I looked constantly ill.

"You got that right," Jeff muttered even quieter, more to himself than to me.

"Whiskey ain't that bad anyway," I paused for a moment, "Jeff, I need to ask you a serious question," I looked up. He sat up straight.

"Don't take this the wrong way or anything" I continued, "But why haven't you killed me yet?"

He paused.

"I'm not sure," his gaze fell to the table, which he began picking at with a finger.

"Do you usually keep hostages?"  
"Not normally. In fact, adults aren't usually within my age range,"

"So why did you come after me? You know, ages ago back at Mrs. Jove's house."

He stood and stretched, then folded his arms over his chest, "I was originally going after those kids," he began, his head turned away, "I crept in and decided I'd wait until they went to bed. That darn bird cocked it up though. Had to shut it up," he sighed, "I heard someone coming up the stairs so I hid in the bathroom. Tried to clean up some of the mess I'd made. Didn't hear you creep up behind me though. If I hadn't seen you backing away in the mirror I'd never have known you were there."

"I tried to stop you but I underestimated how strong you were," he chuckled darkly, "No chance of getting at those kids then, seeing as you'd already alerted them. Your actions really pissed me off," his face contorted to anger, "I forgot about the kids and decided I'd come after you instead. Make you pay for ruining my fun," He stepped towards me. I put my glass down and stepped back.

"But you were smart. You made things interesting," he stopped, looking at the floor, "Your tendency to ask questions bothered me, I thought you asked me too much. But I admired your strength; the fact you adapted so quickly made me think you'd be useful. And then you ran away!" he kicked at his chair suddenly, sending it toppling backwards into the wall. I flinched, inching further away.

"And then that bloody truck nearly damn killed me!" he panted, visibly in a rage, his jaw tight and square, gritting his teeth. He came towards me. I tried to get out of his reach but he managed to grab my hair and jerk me back towards him. He shoved me against the worktop, nose to nose. A hand came up and tightened round my throat.

"Why did you run away?!" he screeched.

"Instinct!" I choked out, "Natural human response to danger!"

"Know-it-all," he spat, pulling me away from the worktop and throwing me to the floor. I tried to roll away, gasping for air, but he retrieved his knife from the worktop and knelt over me, the blade against my throat.

"Then why didn't you run away earlier?!" he growled, "All those chances, when I had my eyes off you, when I was so bloody lost in my own sorrow!"

"I just didn't, okay? I stayed so I could help you!" I coughed, "You asked earlier if I thought you needed help, and I said yes! I stayed so I could help you!" I repeated frantically as the pressure on the blade increased.

For a second I really thought he was going to rip my throat open. Then his expression changed and he removed his knife. I gasped in relief as he got up.

"I don't need help," he muttered angrily as he left me on the floor and sat on the bed, head in his hands.

I thought about saying something, saying that he really did need help, but something told me he'd rather be left alone. I sat up and found tears on my cheeks. I wiped them away, but more replaced them. I knew I was going to start blubbing, so I got up quickly and headed for the bathroom, shutting the door between me and him. There was no lock, as I'd found out earlier, so he could easily just walk in. Finish the job he'd originally set out to do and get his revenge on me for ruining his 'fun', as he'd called it. Get rid of me for good so he didn't have to listen to my questions anymore. _Curiosity killed the cat_, I thought again.

I sat with my back against the wall, my knees up to my chest. It was probably the most comfortable position I could sit in. Made me feel small and invisible, able to just blend in with the background. I hoped I would blend in so much that he'd forget about me. I wept into my jeans, trying to get rid of the shock. I cried for what felt like hours, when really it was only ten minutes. I heard the door open. His footsteps coming closer across the faded linoleum floor.

_Please, just kill me_, I pleaded inside my head, _Get it over with! _But there was no stab of a knife. No threats. He was stood by me, I could see his black sneakers out the corner of my eye. His presence felt almost reassuring. I looked up and blinked through my tears. He wasn't looking at me, his head was turned away. Then he slipped down the wall and knelt beside me. I was confused. _Why wasn't he murdering me?_

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He sighed, shifting his legs so they were a bit more comfortable. I couldn't find anything to reply with. A thousand things were going through my head, but I couldn't pick out anything that made sense.

He noticed my odd quietness, "Believe me Elin, I've never been so sorry in all my life."

I choked out a response, "Really? I hope you don't mind me asking, but…why?"

"I told you that you remind me of Liu. And I killed him. I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself if I killed you too. You're…" he broke off, "God I sound so insensitive. You're so much like him. In a way, killing you would just be like killing him again. I don't think I'd be able to stand that much pain. And you're probably right, I probably do need _some form_ of help. But I'm not going to see some shrink. Not just because I'd get arrested as soon as I set foot in any public place, but because he'd try to send me to some loony ward, like my parents wanted to." He stopped and huffed.

I, again with no response and trying to process this information, nodded.

"You're unusually quiet." He commented.

"I don't know what to say," I managed to find my voice.

"Huh, that's odd," he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I mumbled. The silence enveloped the room. It was awkward.

"You should probably get some rest," He spoke.

"I don't think I'd be able to sleep," I shrugged.

He said nothing, and scratched at the plasters that were beginning to peel off his face.

"Here," I carefully put a hand up. He flinched, then let me take the corner of one of the plasters and pull it back. It was stained and dark with blood, but the slice underneath had healed fairly well. Still red and raw, but a scab had formed. I took off the other one. The same result. He didn't move during this. Just stared at me. I checked both wounds for any sign of infection. Nothing.

He took my hand and moved it away, back to where it had been, resting on my knee. His skin was rough and callused, like he'd done hard labor for years. Like when you tend to an allotment, scrubbing potatoes and using spades and forks.

He moved his hand and re-positioned himself, sat with his back up against the wall, right up next to me. I could feel he was tense, muttering something incomprehensible, eyes flickering around. I sat and watched him for a bit. He didn't notice.

I breathed deeply and stood, "Goodnight,"

"Goodnight," he murmured, lost in his thoughts again. I nodded and left the bathroom, the pressure in my chest building up again. Tears rolled down my face as my head hit the pillow. A few minutes later I was out.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke early the next morning, to find Jeff curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, hood pulled over his face. I thought he was asleep, until he looked up. He stood quickly and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the door. The backpack was already packed on the table. He'd woken before me.

Our car ride continued after we checked out of the motel. The snow had eased and now it came down in tiny flakes, flittering through the air weightlessly. I watched them through the window, trying to keep my eyes on one at a time, following them as they whooshed past the truck.

As I watched, my mind wandered to the many feelings I'd had last night and this morning. I had made two conclusions:

One, there was a part of Jeff that was hurting, and Jeff himself had admitted to me that morning that he wanted to change, and bring his good side out more often, if it would help get rid of the 'things' and the hurt.

Two, I knew he no longer wanted to kill me, which relieved me quite a bit.

Deep within me there was the burn of guilt that I had almost forgotten Louis. He seemed like a distant memory. After all that time, of being my rock and the shoulder to cry on, of being the person who really understood me, and he was disappearing. My heart sank at this. No, not just sank. Practically imploded. I knew that if I kept thinking about it, if I over-thought, I would tumble into some depression. So I tried to keep my mind busy.

"Jeff, I hope you don't mind me asking but, what is it that makes you want to kill someone?" I asked quietly.

Jeff didn't respond for a minute or so. He looked thoughtful, "I get this… feeling,"

"Feeling?"

"Yeah, like an urge. I have to kill to get rid of it. If I don't…" he trailed off. I nodded.

"Do you think it's this feeling that makes the things you see?"

"Who knows," his voice took on a darker tone. He glared ahead at the road, possibly churning thoughts over in his mind. His sudden change in mood had me worried. _What was he thinking? _

"When did you start getting this feeling?"

"What are you, a fucking psychiatrist?!" he turned quickly, steaming.

"N-no," I jumped, "I'm trying to help!"

"How is talking about it going to help?!"

I had no answer. I wanted to tell him that it might relieve some pressure inside him, help him let off some steam, but I couldn't speak, not with those rage-filled eyes boring into my soul. I tried not to look away, but his gaze became too pressuring. His eyes returned to the road as I looked away, out the window.

"You really want to know?" his voice was quieter, not as harsh.

I nodded, looking up.

"I'm surprised you haven't been scared away," his voice was suddenly hoarse, as he swallowed hard. Like he was trying not to cry.

I hoped I hadn't upset him.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he spoke, "When I was a kid, my family moved to a new neighborhood. Your neighborhood. A change of scenery, you could say. Me and my brother…" he paused. His brow furrowed, his carved face contorting into a frown, "Liu and I had to go to a new school. Being new to the neighborhood, we stuck out like a sore thumb. A gang of kids spotted us by the bus stop and threatened us. Some stupid price newcomers had to pay, or some shit like that," he chuckled a little.

"Obviously we didn't give in. They threatened Liu and…" he stopped again.

"You got that feeling," I completed. He nodded.

"That was the first time I felt it. I ended up beating those assholes up. Liu and I ran to school. After that, I oddly felt fine all day. Almost high. We had to walk to school the next day, so we didn't risk any more run-ins with idiots, but when I got home, the police called in. Apparently the bus driver had seen us kicking the shit out of those boys as he came round the corner. I of course denied it, but the police weren't after me, they were after Liu, who was completely innocent!" He became almost hysterical, "I beat up those kids, I tried to tell them that and they wouldn't listen, just because I was the younger one!" his eye twitched, as did his left hand. I watched him carefully.

"I tried to convince them, but Liu came in, carrying a knife and everything, taking the blame for me. They took him away to the Juvenile Detention Centre. The guilt my actions had left behind built up and the feeling to hurt people got stronger."

"That weekend, a neighbor invited our family to her kid's birthday party. It sounded unbelievably lame, but I went anyway. It was some kiddy cowboy theme," he sniggered, but it had no energy in it, "The most fun I'd had all week. But the gang of boys turned up. Heard I was still around. They brought weapons this time, and a fight broke out. That feeling…" he shuddered, almost letting go of the wheel, his voice breaking. At his sudden movement, the car veered left and right. I quickly grabbed the wheel and straightened it, while his hands shook, his foot slamming on the brake. He seemed a little aghast at my reaction, but didn't question it as he got his breathing back in control. He forced his hands to keep still and continued driving. I sat back and tried to stop my heart from jumping out my chest.

"That feeling got worse, until I snapped," he continued a moment later, even quieter, "I killed two of them. The last I cornered in the bathroom. The fight had been pretty destructive, we were both covered in booze and bleach had gotten mixed up in their somewhere. The kid got out a lighter and…" he stopped. It took him a few minutes before he continued. I waited patiently. It was a horrible quiet, eerie as his hoarse words hung in the air.

"He set me on fire. The alcohol burned, and the bleach bleached my skin. I remember waking up in the hospital, seeing my face for the first time…" his fingers reached up, clawing his face, "My face…hehe…" he chuckled. Then he chuckled some more. His laugh got higher-pitched, until it was maniacal.

"My beautiful face… it was perfect! I would've just stared into a mirror all night. But…" his voice dropped suddenly, "I couldn't keep smiling. I got tired, my eyes began to betray me. So I burnt off my eyelids!" he smiled, disfigured face twisting up, "Then I could see my new face all night! And then I carved the smile into my face. Always happy!" he giggled, then turned quickly to me, "Aren't I beautiful?!"

I, a little stunned and scared by the sudden change in his mood once more, nodded, feeling myself edging further away towards the door.

"You better not be lying!" he chuckled, "Oh no, you wouldn't lie to me," his hand reached towards me, his rough fingers dragging down my cheek, before his fingers tangled in my hair, "Shh, there there," he murmured crazily to the whimpers that escaped my lips.

"Now, go to sleep," he chuckled, before slamming my head into the dash once more. I blacked out instantly.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke, still in the truck. It was dark, my clouded eyes took a long time adjusting. I tried to lift my head, but it was a dead weight, and the very motion made me feel horrendously sick. I sensed movement in the cab next to me, before the opening and slamming of the truck door. Then the door I was hunched awkwardly against opened, and I nearly slipped out. Two hands caught me and gripped me round the back of my knees and around my shoulders, lifting me out the cab. I blinked and tried to focus, but all I could see was a black and white blur above me. My stomach turned, and whoever-it-was put me down on the ground quickly. I was violently sick onto rough tarmac. The hands stayed around me, tense and shaking, as if the owner of them was agitated.

"Get up," Jeff's voice was a loud bark, hurting my ears. He supported me as I staggered, first onto my knees, then shakily to my feet.

"Can you walk?" his voice was distant as the blood rushed to my head. I stepped forward and stumbled. He caught me just in time.

"Shit," he cursed, "Shit shit SHIT!" the door of the cab was kicked shut angrily.

I tried to look around, my head throbbing painfully, but only saw blurs. A bright light in the distance, a neon pink, it seemed. A sign? Maybe this was another motel.

"Wh-where are we?" I slurred.

"Doesn't matter!" he almost shouted. In the distance, a siren wailed.

"FUCK! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT! Get up!" he pulled at me, but the intense pain made me scream.

"Oh fuck this!" He dashed off, leaving me crying and confused in the gutter of some foreign place. People came running, I could hear their voices babbling away. The sirens got louder and louder, screeching in my ears. I rolled over and tried to crawl, but the very movement was extremely tiring, and I flopped back to the ground. Jeff was gone from sight, having disappeared into the night.

"Someone help!" A foreign voice called out. I could feel people's presence around me. Several coats were draped over my shivering frame, and blue and red lights blinded me.

"What happened?" A voice of authority.

"Someone just dumped her!"

"Did anyone see who it was?"

There were incoherent babbles of people, and two officers in neon yellow coats stood over me. One kneeled down and tried to get me to respond. My body felt frozen, and I tried my hardest to focus on the guy, but my eyes wouldn't listen.

"Hang on," he stood again, muttered something to his pal and got out his radio, saying something. All I caught was 'missing', 'found' and 'concussion'. The rest was replaced with horrible ringing in my ears.

_Would someone please turn that siren off?!_

I cringed. The officer's friends saw this and knelt down next to me, "Are you in pain ma'am?"

"Yes!" I croaked.

"Can you tell us where?"

"Everywhere!" I bawled, the tears welling up and blinding me.

"I understand, the medics are on the way. We'll get you up in no time, don't you worry," his voice was reassuring and I tried to hold on to my tears.

"Can you tell us your name?" he asked.

For a second I forgot but it suddenly hit me like a slap in the face, "Elin! Elin Waters!"

He looked shocked for a second, said something excitedly to his friend and then returned to me, "At last you've turned up!"

This confused me for a second, before I realized that I had indeed been missing. But then Jeff crossed my mind.

"Where's Jeff?!" I turned over, but he gently stopped me.

"Did your captor leave you here?"

"Yes, he ran off…" My speech was slurring again and my eyelids got heavy.

"Try to stay with us, okay? We're going to get you into the ambulance…" he stood and backed off, letting paramedics through. They went to work, checking me over and managing to lift me onto a stretcher. I was unfocussed during all of this. My head was throbbing so hard, I thought my eyes would burst out of their sockets. Before I knew it, I had a neck brace on, and several people were lifting the uncomfortable stretcher on which I lay. Then I was studying the interior of an ambulance.

"How's your pain?" A friendly looking woman asked me. She didn't look a day over twenty, with big blue eyes and all her golden blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail.

"Oww," Was all I could answer as I winced. My throat felt raw, and I could taste something horrible on my tongue.

"Okay, we'll get you some painkillers. Cheer up chickie, you'll be alright now," she comforted me and turned to another medic, conversing about painkillers. I took some deep breaths to calm myself, despite the fact that even breathing hurt. My throat was burning now. I felt like I was going to throw up again. I held onto the feeling and focused on the sounds around me and what the medics were saying, and eventually the feeling passed.

For a while I drifted in and out of consciousness, waking up to a blurry world every so often, just to fall asleep once more. I kept dreaming about Louis and the train. Every time, I would be faced with the train station scene. Louis would be on the tracks, screaming for me to help him, while Jeff stood behind me, cackling evilly. And every time, Jeff would give me a choice.

"You can help him and probably die in the process, or you can come to me, and live," he would hiss, one pale hand reaching towards me as if to coax me.

I knew that if I did help Louis, I probably wouldn't be fast enough, or would fall onto the tracks with him, resulting in both of our deaths. But I also knew that Jeff was lying and that if I went to him, I would likely die as well. Each time this dream reoccurred, I ignored Jeff and knelt down at the edge of the platform, grabbing Louis's hand, trying to lift him back onto the platform. But Jeff would get angry and would kick me down onto the tracks as well. Then the train would hit and I would wake suddenly, head pounding.

I was vaguely aware of doctors and clinical white corridors, and the sound of radiographers as they did x-rays. While the machine went on, I drifted off again.

It was the same dream.

"You can help him and probably die in the process, or you can come to me, and live," Jeff snarled. I turned to him, and saw his outstretched hand, just as before, except…

The dream changed. As I studied Jeff, he contorted into the scared young man I saw when he broke down. Tears streamed down his face, and he pleaded with me, begging me even to come with him.

"Help," his voice shuddered, "H-help me!"

I paused, and looked back at Louis. He was wide-eyed.

"Elin?! What are you waiting for! Help me, please!" he cried, fearfully looking towards the advancing train.

I was frozen. _What should I do?_ I turned to Jeff again. He looked utterly broken, begging, dropping to his knees and pulling his hair, clawing at his skin and his sore mouth. My heart wrenched, and I stepped towards him.

And the train whooshed by. Louis's screams rang in my ears as I dashed back to the platform. The train didn't bother to stop. It kept going along the track, leaving the empty station silent, aside from Jeff's sniffing. I looked down onto the track. Blood was everywhere, as were torn limbs and what looked like brain matter. I felt my throat tighten and I turned back to Jeff. He was stood up now. He looked blank as he stepped towards me, his arms encircling me. Like he was giving me a comforting hug. A little confused, I hugged him back, that niggling feeling of attraction stirring in my stomach.

Then he chuckled. It got higher pitched, until it was crazy, his arms tightening around me as he laughed. I tried to struggle out of his grip, but he was too strong. He petted my hair like I was his toy.

"Shh," he soothed between giggles.

"J-Jeff…" I begged him, "Please, just let me go!"

"No," his eyes visibly lit up, "You're mine now."


	11. Chapter 11

"Miss Waters?" A distant voice said. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were heavy. My head felt stuffy, but fortunately less painful. I forced my eyes open and focused them on several doctors stood around my hospital bed.

"Good to see you're awake," one tall woman said. She had tanned skin and luscious brown hair and a business suit. She looked like an important figure, checking the machines around my bed. One was a heart monitor.

"Your pulse is looking good," she stated, her voice light and cheery, "If you continue to progress well, you should be able to come off the monitor later today. Maybe we'll get you moving too."

"Sounds good," I stretched as much as I could. It hurt at first, but then it felt good. Like stretching was letting all the aches and impurities flow out of my muscles and making space for new energy.

"How's your head feeling?"

"A bit cloudy. But not as painful."

"That's good."

She discussed medications and other hospitally stuff with two nurses that had dropped in to do my blood pressure, and after that she left. Once my blood pressure was noted (it appeared normal, according to one of the nurses), I was alone. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the stuffiness in my head, and managed to drift off into a deep sleep.

I spent a few more nights in the hospital, with the drips and heart monitor gradually being unhooked. Police came and went, asking reams of questions. I tried to answer truthfully, but being honest, everything was very hazy. Like looking back on a dream or memory from long ago. The nurses said that was part of the concussion, and that it should subside. They also said I would be able to go home relatively soon. Within the week, they said. I doubted that would happen. Concussions weren't new to me, I'd suffered one before when I was twelve, and I fell off a horse while on holiday in Scotland. I'd managed to thwack my head off a nearby gate as I went down. They said I should be in hospital for a week or so, depending on severity. I stayed in that hospital for two and a half weeks.

I sat up in my bed. The world span a bit, but it went away pretty quick. Surely that was a good sign. I looked about my dark room. It was a single room, with only one bed. That was kinda nice. Just me, giving me time to think. It was night now, the nurses had shut off the light a couple hours ago.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, stretching my sore muscles, cringing in pain as my neck clicked. There was a cold buzzing sensation, and then the pain left me, replaced by a cool feeling in my neck. It felt better now it had clicked; I had been lying funny on it. I clicked my fingers and wrists too. Then I felt good about getting up.

Walking had been tricky at first, being so disorientated. Now it was a breeze. Well, just about. I stumbled a bit on my way to the door, and clicked it open, grabbing my hospital dressing gown from the bottom of my bed as I went. Pulling it on, I nodded to Dorothy, a middle-aged nurse outside, sitting behind the desk. She was alone too.

"Hi Elin. How're you feeling?" she smiled, her face creasing along her soft laughter lines.

"Fine, just popping to the loo,"

"Alright. If you need any help, just call,"

I nodded and shuffled along to the nearest toilet, cringing in embarrassment slightly. I was pretty sure I didn't need help relieving myself. Though it was thoughtful of her to remind me. She was a nice nurse, usually the one the give me my meds and check up on me. I liked her.

After I was done, I shuffled back, trying to untangle the knots in my hair. I nodded to Dorothy once more and closed the door to my room. I was about to get back into bed, when I noticed the window was open…

_Had I left it open?_

I strolled over to it, carefully pushing the open curtain out the way to grab the handle and pull the window shut. I stood there for a minute, heart pounding. Immediately Jeff came to mind. _Would he still be after me? Why keep chasing me if I was so protected within the hospital?_

Then I thought harder. I realized that no matter where I was, I would never be safe. I wasn't even safe with a cop for Christ sake! Sure, he had left me alone, but Jeff was smart enough to steal an undercover car and use the cop's own tracking system against them. I felt my mood drop, and I sighed. The window had been open. Surely Jeff couldn't have got in. _No_, I decided. He was probably biding his time. He wasn't stupid enough to attack me in a hospital. He'd be cornered that way.

I turned to get back into bed, internally trying to claw back the pleasant mood I'd had before my bathroom break. But I froze I place when I saw him sitting cross-legged on my bed, grinning evilly.


	12. Chapter 12

Anger rose up in me.

"What the actual _fuck_ are you doing here?!"

"Shh, you'll wake the others," Jeff put a finger to his scarred lips, "And really darling, must you swear like that? It doesn't seem to suit you," he said, voice low, almost purr-like.

"Do not call me 'darling'!" I oddly felt no fear. As if having him appear randomly out of the blue was normal.

"Alright…darling," he got up, chuckling under his breath, toying with me and winding me up. He stooped to pick up my folded clothes from the chair in the corner of the room. He threw them at me.

"Get dressed, we're going for a walk," he edged over to the door, looking out the little window, keeping himself hidden. From where I stood, I could see Dorothy was still out there.

_Please, don't hurt her…_

I looked at the bundle of dark clothes in hand. I really didn't want to leave…

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get dressed!" he hissed, pulling his knife out of his pocket. I did as I was told, not really wanting to be at the pointy end of his wrath. I pulled my jeans on first, then stood awkwardly, not sure if I should just take the gown off in front of him. He looked at me, frustration etched into his face.

"Come on, we haven't got all night!"

I moved to the corner of the room, my back to him, and pulled off the gown facing the corner, feeling his gaze on my exposed back. I heard him chuckle. I growled.

"Pervert," I grumbled under my breath, twisting myself into my bra.

"What was that?" he jumped up behind me, his knife pressed into my back, his voice hissing in my ear. I froze, not expecting him to have heard me.

"I'm not _that_ immature you know." He chucked, letting me go, dragging his blade across my shoulders annoyingly as he moved back to the door.

"At least you're in a relatively good mood,"

"Yes, and I suggest keeping it that way," he peeked out the door again as I pulled my shirt on, "I've sharpened my knife you know. I'm pretty sure you don't want to feel it embedded into that pretty flesh of yours,"

I gulped and turned back, before pulling on my boots and tying them as quick as I could.

"Come on," he grabbed my canvas coat from the hook on the wall (I'd insisted on keeping it in my room along with my clothes. It was too precious to stash in some stuffy closet) and tossed it at me. I put it on and did it up, watching him as he opened the window again, climbing onto the ledge.

"Ladies first?" He gestured out the window to the flat rooftop below.

"Are you mad?!"

He huffed, some annoyance in his eyes, and stepped down, grabbing my wrist and propelling me quite forcefully to the windowsill. I grumbled and climbed up, looking down at the rooftop below. It was a good ten-foot drop. A ventilation shaft ran directly under the window, sloping down to the roof steeply. It seemed the only way down, and it wasn't like it couldn't climb back in: Jeff was directly behind me. I sat down on the outer ledge and gingerly put my feet on the sloping shaft. Keeping hold of the window ledge, I let my boots slip down a couple of feet, before gripping the edges of the shaft itself and carefully sliding down to the rooftop. Jeff followed me, but he didn't bother holding on to anything, he just skidded down and dropped off the end.

"That looked practiced,"

He grunted and grabbed my arm again, propelling me to the edge of the roof. My room was on the second floor, and the ground over the edge of this rooftop was about another ten feet down. There was a nearby drainpipe, leading straight down, but there were people milling about below, moving to and from the Accident and Emergency Department.

Jeff muttered something unintelligible, and pulled me over to the other side of the roof, which led to the car park behind this wing of the hospital. It was much clearer there, only one or two people, of which left pretty quick. There was another drainpipe too.

I really wasn't sure if I could climb down a drainpipe, I had never attempted it, and I really didn't feel like falling ten feet to the hard concrete below. I looked back at Jeff.

"What? You've never climb a drainpipe?"

"No…"

He muttered to himself again and looked about for another way down. I stood, feeling rather helpless. I looked back at the shaft we'd come down from my room, and wondered if I'd be able to climb up it and back into my room fast enough, and find my way out of the building another way, and lose Jeff. But I shook it off. Jeff's grip on my arm was tight and even if I did run for the shaft, he would easily catch up with me.

"Look," he dragged me to the edge, "There's a window. You can climb the pipe, and use the window as support,"

I looked at the pipe, then him, then the pipe again. Slowly, I sat down on the edge of the roof, watching him through the corner of my eye as he paced impatiently, keeping an eye out for people. I twisted round, and lowered myself onto the pipe, gripping it unbelievably tight, my feet planted flat against the wall. _Now what?_

I slowly eased one leg down, and then moved the opposite hand down as well. Then I moved the other leg down, and repeated with the other hand. I continued like this for about a meter and a half, to where there was a window on my right. I slipped down a little more and planted my foot on the outside ledge, noticing that the blinds were drawn. I rested a second, but I could feel Jeff's angry gaze on my head. I was taking too long, apparently. I moved back to the pipe, and repeated my pattern, managing to speed up just a bit. I really got going, and didn't realize I had reached ground level, until my right heel hit the concrete and I stumbled backwards, onto my bum. Jeff above sniggered, following. Again, his movements were practiced, agile. I dusted myself off as he jumped the last meter or so to the ground. For a second we stood, just staring at each other. I noticed the scars on his cheeks looked red raw and scabby. He'd slashed them again.

After an awkward moment, he looked about quickly, then grabbed my wrist so tight that I was sure to have a bruise, and pulled me forcefully across the car park, pulling his hood up so no-one could see his face. He grabbed mine and yanked it up too. He didn't yank hard though, not like I expected him to.

"Where are we going?!" I pulled futilely. He tugged me forward again.

"Places,"

"What places?"

"Shut up," he snarled.

I was suddenly very angry, "Why won't you leave me alone? Why not just leave me and move on? Surely that would be safer!" I pulled again.

"I told you!" He snapped suddenly, whirling round, his face close to mine, "You are mine now. And I don't leave a job unfinished," he chuckled darkly, raising his blade close to my face, an evil smile on his face. I inhaled sharply at his words. _I never leave a job unfinished…_

"But I thought you said you wouldn't kill me! That you wanted help!"

"Well over the past few days I've been thinking. I don't need help. Since I met you, you've been nothing but trouble. Which is why I'm going to kill you," he grabbed my neck his time, his fingers pressing uncomfortably. I cried out, pushed to my knees.

"Now, you be a good girl and do as you're told, and I might think about letting you live a while longer," he yanked me up to my feet, forcing me across the tarmac to a pedestrian crossing. There were no cars. He shoved me across the road to the sidewalk on the other side.

We continued down several back streets, out of the view of other people. I tried screaming for help, but he gave me a sharp slap across the face and clamped his had over my mouth. A few back streets later, we came to a small dirty parkland area. The grass was strewn with rubbish, old beer cans and plastic bags scattered everywhere. The sounds of a bustling city were audible, cars and sirens. The police maybe?

"Why bring me here?!" I asked, bewildered when he dropped me to the cold wet grass, "Wouldn't it have been easier to kill me at the hospital?!"

"Oh no, I couldn't kill you there. Do you know how hard it is to carry a body out of a window?"

"Carry a body out of a...?" I trailed off as my heart thumped.

"Yes. I have something planned for you. A little message, which I'm going to leave right here," he tapped the ground with his foot, "Guess who gets to be the centerpiece."

My eyes went wide as the breath left my lungs. Shit. _Shit shit SHIT_. I shook my head, stumbling to my feet and backing away. There were sirens behind me, coming from the main road that wasn't far off. A whirring noise came from overhead. A helicopter. It had a great big searchlight scanning the area. Within a minute it had spotted us. During this time, Jeff had stepped towards me, but he stopped and looked up and snarled, cursing.

I took this opportunity to turn and run, but before I could get away, he grabbed my hood and threw me back onto the ground. I screamed as he knelt over me, chuckling, his right foot on my stomach to stop me from getting up. He took a swing at my face with his knife, but I grabbed his wrist quickly. The action shocked us both. _How had I done that?_

He growled and tugged on his knife, using his other hand to try and pull my fingers away. It became a furious tug of war. All the while, the sounds of people got closer, yelling, more sirens, until…

BANG!

Jeff stopped suddenly. Blood began to stain his white hoodie on his right shoulder. He looked shocked as he looked over his shoulder, first at the bullet fixed deeply in his shoulder blade, then to the police officer who was stood at the entrance to the park, gun raised, fully clad in riot protection armor.

"Put the knife down!" he yelled, as others swarmed up behind him, guns leveled at Jeff.

Jeff looked slightly scared for a second. Then he smiled.

"You think a bullet is going to stop me?!" he chuckled, the blood trickling down his hoodie arm.

"Put the knife down, and this'll be much easier. You don't want to hurt her, Jeff."

He looked down at me. I expected him to smile or snarl, maybe take another stab. But he actually looked upset.

"What am I doing...?" he murmured to himself, the murderous light going from his cold eyes, "Liu…"

I blinked. _Did he just call me Liu?_ There were tears in his lidless eyes as he shook his head, "No…Liu?!" he cried, clutching his head. I sensed the guns aimed at his back tense.

He hyperventilated, muttering "No, no, no," over and over again. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me.

"No, don't die on me! _I'm sorry Liu!_" he screamed. I lay frozen as officers crept up on him and grabbed him quickly. He screamed and kicked, "Don't! Save him! Save him _please!_"

The officers grabbed his knife from him, handcuffing him. They led him away, back towards the cars. Several others had to join in, he was kicking so hard. One guy got kicked in the face. I could see his nose was broken, a mashed mess, his brow oddly dented where Jeff'd slammed his foot into his face.

"Liu, _help!_" he screamed.

I sat up, tears rolling down my face. Officers crowded me, and paramedics arrived.

"Are you alright, did he hurt you?"

I was frozen.

One of them muttered something about shock to the medics.

"Where's he going?!" I stood suddenly, intent on finding out.

"Miss Waters, we need to check you over…"

"Jeff!" I tried to push through them, but several grabbed me. I don't know why, but I just wanted to see him. Comfort him. My heart ached from seeing his third breakdown. I couldn't just leave him.

"Where is he going?!" I yelled.

"He's going to a psychiatric institution, now please sit so we can check you over!"

I did as I was told, my body feeling frozen inside.


	13. Chapter 13

It took a few weeks for the date of the trial to come through. I sold my house and bought a flat. The house was a mess, and it brought back too many memories. When I got the date, I was reading the mail, sitting at the round kitchen table. It was to be held on January 2nd. What a way to start the new year.

In the weeks leading up to that, I was questioned relentlessly for evidence to give in court, and the papers kept phoning, asking for deals on selling my story. I told them, in the politest way possible, to fuck off. I couldn't seem to go anywhere, without them tagging along. I thought about resorting to violence, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything.

Then the trial swung round. He was give life imprisonment, under psychiatric care. You would've expected me to feel good about this, getting justice and whatnot. But I didn't feel good. As he was led from the courtroom, head bowed, I just felt empty. Maybe a little bit of me missed him. I'd almost gotten used to him being around. And the time when I'd fallen over in the snow while we were on the run, when he'd been laughing at me, that memory stuck fast in my brain. I could still hear that lighthearted laugh now. I sort of missed that moment. I wondered why I felt like that several times. Something called Stockholm Syndrome or something?

All through the trial, he'd stared at me, forlornly. Maybe he was kicking himself for getting caught. Maybe he still thought I was his brother.

I had many nightmares. Sometimes, it was the train station dream. Sometimes it was Jeff kneeling over me, stabbing down at me. But mostly, it was him, huddled up in a ball and calling me 'Liu'. My paranoia went through the roof. Looking over my shoulder constantly, the feeling of being watched. I bought several locks for my door. And for my windows. I tried reassuring myself that he was gone and it was over, but I expected him to be sat on my window ledge, tapping the glass and expecting to be let in.

It got to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore. I called the hospital he was being held at. A nurse picked up. After introducing myself and some general chitchat, I asked if I could see him.

"Well, I'm not sure about that..."

"Please, it won't be for long. I just have to make sure he's there. I keep thinking he's here with me..." A lump rose in my throat. _Don't you dare cry_, I warned myself.

"Hm...I'll check. Please hold." Tinny music filled the line. I sighed and waited for it to pass. I waited a good few minutes.

"Hello, Miss Waters? About you're visit," A man's voice said, "I'm sure you can understand that it's not convenient. He's under high-security after all."

"I get that, but I just have to make sure," I paused, "Please?"

"Well..." The man's voice sounded unsure, "Can you hang on a bit longer?"

"Sure,"

Another few minutes passed. Then a new voice came on.

"Hello Miss Waters, this is Susan Hewitt, I'm Jeff's psychiatrist. You said you wanted to see him?"

"Yes,"

"I might be able to let you in. You must understand he's rather unstable at the moment,"

"I get that,"

"When were you thinking?"

"As soon as possible,"

There was a pause.

"Next week?"

"That sounds good," I said, making a mental note to cancel any plans.

"How does Tuesday sound? Three thirty PM?"

"Brilliant,"

"I'll let you know if anything changes,"

"Thanks,"

She hung up. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't fully sure why I wanted to see him. Part of it was that I wanted to check he was still there. Maybe it was just to provide relief. To know he wasn't sat at my windows or watching me sleep at night.

I picked up the phone again and called the cafe where I worked, asking for Tuesday off.

I woke late on Tuesday. Didn't seem much point in getting up early seeing as I was off work. They had originally wanted me to stay off for a couple of months and recover, but I couldn't sit at home doing nothing. It felt strange not having to go anywhere. In a way, it was kinda nice. But I couldn't escape the pool of dread in my stomach. I sat doing nothing for a while before getting ready to go out.

Unable to drive and short on cash for a taxi or even to pay the bus fare, I had to resort to walking there. It was a long walk. My feet ached by the time I reached to iron gates. I pressed the buzzer on the gate and introduced myself into the intercom. The gates clicked open. I strode up the drive to the industrial white building. Upon reaching the glass doors, I was partially blinded by the white clinicalness of it all. I opened the door and walked to the main desk in the center of the lobby. A nurse there took my name and called Susan Hewitt, who came down a few minutes later. She then led me through lots of doors and bare corridors to her office where she told me what to expect and what to avoid saying while in Jeff's presence. I nodded and listened obediently, trying to take in all this info. Truth was though, my head was swimming.

Then she led me from her office down more corridors in the endless maze of the hospital to a psychiatric ward. We passed through that to a higher security level.

"Jeff is in this ward. Are you sure you..."

"Yes," I cut her off, "I'm sure. He's knows I'm coming right?"

"Yes, we told him after your call last week. He didn't really react much." She turned to the ward door and spoke her name into the intercom on the wall. A lock form inside the door opened. Then she entered a pin number into a keypad, and the rest of the door opened.

It looked quite similar inside as the previous ward, white and clinically clean. There were less doors here though, less patients. Jeff's room was room 6. There was a little window in the door, no bigger than a piece of A4 paper. I peeked through to see him on a hospital bed, knees up to his chest, one arm cast round them. The other, I noticed, was handcuffed to the bed rail. He looked so lonely. As I did this, a guard came up behind us.

"Me and this guard will assist you in there, in case anything happens." Susan stated, carefully unlocking the door. As she did this, Jeff looked up. Saw me through the window. Stared intently. The door swung open. His eyes followed us into the room. He didn't move.

"Jeff, Elin's here to see you," Susan smiled. Jeff just stared at me.

"Would you like a chair?" Susan asked me. I nodded. She pulled one up from the bedside and placed it at the ed of the bed. I sat.

"Why," he croaked after a moment of silence.

I was confused for a second before realizing he was asking why I'd come, "I just wanted to see you," I shrugged a shoulder.

"You really are the strangest woman I've ever met,"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I recollected myself, "What's it like here?"

"Boring," he flashed a grin, "Not the most fetching place,"

"No," I chuckled nervously. There was an awkward atmosphere in the room. I sat with my hands in my lap, staring at the ground.

Jeff sat up suddenly, onto his knees. The guard tensed, moving forward when he shuffled closer to me, hand outstretched. I was taken aback by this. The guard stood me up and moved me back, but I stepped round him. Jeff's hand was still outstretched, but he couldn't reach me because of the handcuff around his other wrist. I moved a bit closer so I was just in reach. His face was sad, a dead and lost look in his eyes. I took his hand, unsure of what to do. He quickly pulled me forward into an embrace. It was odd with only one arm able to move, but he gripped me tightly against him even so.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Liu,"

"I-It's okay..."

"No it's not. I'll pay for my sins in Hell, I promise," he let me go and pushed me back away, not forcefully. He then shifted back up the bed, right up to the pillow as the guards led me quickly out of the room.

I thanked Susan and the guard, and was led back to the entrance. I hastily made my way down the drive, out the gates, and back onto the path. I felt a little safer because I knew there was no way he'd get out. But that sad look in Jeff's eyes haunted me. I got going.

A few years later, I was on my way to the store. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, you could say. I felt pretty good too. The past was behind me. I could move on. I walked into the store, picked up the paper and headed to the counter.

"Morning Elin,"

"Hey Sam, y'all right?"

"Aye, not bad," Sam was a tall and well built college student who worked part-time. Good to have a chat to.

"You keeping well?" I handed over some change. He processed it and handed me the paper.

"Oh yeah, getting by. You?"

"Same, I guess," I chuckled, "Well, be seeing you," He waved as I left.

I began the stroll home. The birds were singing, the sky was blue. Somewhere off in the distance, there was the low rumbling of a lawnmower. I flipped open the paper and read the front page. I stopped.

CONVICTED MURDER ESCAPES HIGH SECURITY PRISON

I stood, a bit blank, for a while, staring at the paper that was now on the floor. A sudden memory flew into my head: when I was in hospital all that time ago, coming back from the bog and realizing that I would never be safe.

I got moving. Started to walk. Then I started to run.

**/Heeeey everybody! This is Yarunika! **

**Big thanks for taking the time to read my story, it really means a lot to me. Whether I'll continue this later on, I don't know, but for now, it's finished. I hope you've enjoyed it!**

**Don't forget to leave a review if you want, maybe some feedback for changes to the plot, grammatical errors, spellings etc. The usual. Any suggestions for another sequel from here would be greatly appreciated!**

**Anyway, big thanks, and have a nice day! :D /**


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